Educating Lizzy
by Meganelme
Summary: Elizabeth needs to supplement her education in order to become an independant writer. Darcy tries to help but does it hurt?
1. EducatingLizzy

Educating Lizzy

Where Elizabeth realizes her education has been woefully inadequate.

Dreaming? I sit up. The papered walls are emitting a silky sheen from the moonlight and the bed clothes are of the finest linen. This is not Longbourn? Am I at Netherfield? Oh, yes- Jane-there-sleeping silently beside me. We have shared the same bed since the day I was born. It feels strange to think that someday, if all goes very well, she would share a different bed in this house, with a different person. Not me.

I feel her head and it is still warm but not on fire. Thank goodness for that. I sigh with relief and watch her even breathing. She's finally resting comfortably.

My head throbs. I drank too much after dinner tonight. I guess I was trying to get through the evening with the "superior" sisters. They played all night long. If they weren't playing whist, they were playing the pianoforte. It was exhausting to see them so desperate to demonstrate their social accomplishments.

Mr. Bingley listened enthusiastically but rose often to give the servants instructions to see to his invalids comfort. It was pleasing to see him distracted and longing for Jane.

Mr. Darcy played whist with Mr. Hurst, flattered the ladies and even asked me if I would like to dance a reel. A reel? It sounded like a joke, I could not imagine it. The hateful man. The sisters constantly winked at each other and sneered at me. So, when that insufferable Mr. Darcy handed me my fifth glass of wine, I drank it in one gulp just to numb my mind and escape the scene.

I wonder if there is any wine lingering in an empty carafe, downstairs? Hair of the dog and all of that.

I wrap my shawl around my bare shoulders and tip toe downstairs to the parlor for a nip. The nightgown I am borrowing is so large, it is constantly slipping off of my shoulder.

That is odd. Why is the fire still lit?

I peek into the room and see Mr. Darcy sitting disheveled before the fire, shirt unbuttoned, no cravat and his shoes off and stockings pointing to the flames. His hair is a floppy mess. He looks so pensive and thoughtful. I wonder of what he is thinking.

I must admit he is by far the handsomest man of my acquaintance. His profile would make an excellent silhouette. His nose and lips are perfect. When he enters a room, people stare, not because of his imposing stature but because of his beauty. It is such a shame his personality is so ugly and hateful.

I wish I had not come downstairs. I will try to sneak back up before he notices me.

"Show yourself." He commands as he steadily gazes at the flames. I am caught.

I step forward, reluctantly, into his view. My hair is loose down my back with unruly wisps' falling about my cheeks, which are flushed a bright red. I cross the shawl around myself tightly and lift my chin in defiance. How dare he speak that way?

"M-Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" He stood to bow. "Is that you? At this hour?" He seems discombobulated. It's gratifying.

"As you see." I curtsy slowly, "I've come for some water, my carafe is empty and I do not like to bother the servants this late. Before he can ask me where my carafe is, I quickly bow and turn to leave.

"No. Please join me. There is a bit of wine left-it helps one sleep, I hear." He motions to the chair near his and tosses another log on the fire.

My heart jumps. What does he mean asking me to stay, un-chaperoned, with him, alone and disheveled so late? I still feel a bit groggy from all of the wine-I rub my forehead as he approaches with the glass. Standing so near my chair I can make out every ripple of his breeches. He pours the red liquid and swirls is slowly while looking down his chest at me. I am in my night gown and I can tell my appearance is making him consider whether I am worthy of his attention. It seems I am worthy because it seems he can not take his eyes off of me.

He hands me the glass. Even his hands are handsome. Hand-some? Whims always make me smile.

He gives me a quizzical look. I change the subject. "Lydia told me something the other day that I've been pondering lately." I tuck my legs up under me so I can lean in and whisper so as to not awaken the household. "And…even though you and I have never been on the best of terms, I feel it necessary to seek your advice."

"Why seek my advice if you think we are adversaries?" He swirls his whirlpool of wine, disinterested and distant.

"Because, sir, with all due respect, you are a man of the world and the only such man with whom I have an acquaintance."

"You value my opinion?"

I am startled by his response and know not how to reply. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I value your worldliness." I finally admit with some slight hint of exasperation.

"Then, by all means, seek and I shall advise." his smile is bemused.

I eye him warily. I drink from my glass. My eyes widen-the wine tastes amazing. This wasn't the vintage we had earlier. He notices my surprise and smiles. It is the first time I have seen his lips curl in pleasure and not prejudice.

"It's my father's 1721 Cabernet. I brought it just in case I needed to survive another night like tonight. Would you like some more."

I nod my head in agreement. Maybe I misread Mr. Darcy earlier, "Please." I smile knowingly.

Darcy stands to get the ancient bottle. I glance at his back as he walks to the sideboard. His breeches fit exceedingly well and he walks with a less hauty air when shoeless. He slowly pours another fuller dose for me to enjoy. "I like sharing my things with new friends." He winked at me conspiratorially. My heart skips a beat so I wet my lips and continue with the business at hand.

"Lydia told me that the officers were gossiping about the Bennet sisters the other day. It was universally acknowledged that there was little chance for us to marry men of worth. According to Lydia, the officers all begged to find rich wives and although I found their talk abhorrent, I could not blame them." I quickly meet his eyes. I have his complete attention.

"It is well known that my family are not well connected and our dowries are disgraceful. My sisters and I were just lucky enough to be born daughters of a gentleman but if my father were to pass away the entire estate is entailed to a male cousin who has been estranged from us for many years." I blush at my boldness. "Forgive me for divulging so much…I fear the wine is having its effect. In short, I will need to earn my living at some point in my life and I think being a governess might suit me. With your connections, I wondered if there might be a nice family you know of in need of someone like me."

Mr. Darcy laughed aloud. "Why would you want to sacrifice yourself to someone else's children?"

"I doubt I will ever have any of my own. I am not economically fit for the marriage state, no man of sense would ever offer for me with so little inducement and besides, I like children. I think they are kinder than adults, they have no pretensions and…I might have time to do what I really love doing…write."

"Write?" that piqued his interest.

"Yes. I enjoy writing."

"And what, pray tell, do you write about?" He is obviously pointing to my sheltered, country lifestyle.

"Prose, poetry and novels."

"Indeed!" He raised his glass and gulped never taking his penetrating eyes off of me.

"I just wondered…if you might know of a good situation for me. I would work so hard. I'm quite excellent with numbers."

"Are you? Have you any modern languages?"

"Some French, not much."

"Have you ever traveled?"

"No. I have not been so fortunate. I visit London and the lakes with my Aunt and Uncle."

"I know your performance at the pianoforte is less than superior but your voice is very fine."

"Thank you, sir."

He cleared his throat as he gazed at mine. He sat back in his fine leather wing-back chair and pressed his fingertips together in steady consideration. "Do you draw?" He asked.

"No."

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Bennet. I cannot recommend you solely on the beauty of your face and the grace of your manners."

I can feel my cheeks flaming as an indignant blush burns my countenance then the tears began to well. I rush to escape the embarrassing scene. He catches my arm with a firm hold as I turn toward the door.

"Don't despair. Miss Elizabeth." He pulls me into an embrace-unexpected by both of us-I hear his heart racing. "I did not mean to insult you, I am sorry." The kind gesture and my mortification lead to a deluge of tears that wet the front of his shirt. His arms only tighten around my shivering frame.

"T'is not that bad." I appreciate his polite condescension but I still feel like a fool.

"I have a close family connection whom I think can help you attain the education you deserve."

I take a deep breath of his intoxicating masculine scent. I feel dizzy. Every inch of my body is beating heavily from throbbing of my skull to the pulsing of my more private parts. He takes his handkerchief, my cheeks aflame, and dabs the tears.

With his arm protectively around my shoulder he leads me over to a nearby settee, reaches into his pocket and writes a name and address on a heavy bond card embossed with the Darcy crest.

"Madame LeTourneau is an old friend and she has a school in the Loire Valley of France. It is a place where intelligent young ladies from the continent can hone their skills and prepare for independent lives. My own mother attended, may she rest in peace."

He sounds pained. I didn't know she had passed away. "Since you have no ambition toward marriage, Madame LeTourneau can help you find patrons and promote your literary efforts. I will warn you, though, she is demanding. She looks for focus and determination and requires thinking that is sometimes...how do I say this...unconventional?"

I smiled wanly, my eyes a swollen mess. "She is very exclusive and accepts only a few students each term. I will see what I can do."

He takes my hand in his and strokes it gently. I feel a flutter in my pelvis and my lips go dry. I bite them to keep from crying. He doesn't take his eyes off of me.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he leans his head so close that I could feel his warm, wine laden whisper on my mouth. I feel his heat.

"I wouldn't suggest this course of action or go out of my way to send a letter of introduction and recommendation for just anyone." With that he places his lips upon my own. And kisses me again, and again, and over and over-my lips, my burning cheek, my temple, my neck.

His desire surprises me. My mind is reeling. He finds me worthy of kissing, of this intimacy!'

I gasp in shock. I am reminded that I am wearing nothing but a sheer cotton nightgown and our position will surely compromise my reputation if we are caught. The way his hands feel in my hair I am starting to doubt whether a good reputation is such a desirable thing for a writer. I want to throw propriety away and become a gypsy. Since marriage is no longer an option worth considering, I should maybe start living a big life.

"My god!," Darcy groans "You are the most delicious thing I've ever…tasted. You have no idea how long I've wanted to..." a low guttural groan rumbles in his chest.

He tastes like wine and smells like musk and the expensive sweet starchy smell of wealth. My desire ignites as I find the spot under his jaw where his pulse throbs and I push my tongue then my teeth, then my lips in a sensual salty bite. I can hear his breath quicken. He likes that.

We have always been so prickly and unpleasant with each other. This is a new, bold Darcy and I like him. I pull his lips to mine and kiss him back with passion bred from fear and longing. This gives him permission to ravish me. His lips suck the soft curve of my neck making my body go limp and I have to gasp to keep from passing out. Is he trying to devour me? I want to let him. His tongue gently licks the edge of my earlobe as his low growl vibrates my ear, his hot breath sends untoward fantasies into my imagination.

"No. Stop. We mustn't" I finally pull the reigns in after his eager hand slips under my breast and his teeth pull the top of my nightgown. He places one last kiss on my shoulder and looks up at me with dreamy, half closed eyes.

"As you wish." he whispers with regret. He stumbles to his feet and makes his way back to his arm chair, where he rakes his hair in frustration and covers his face with his hands. He shakes his head in his hands. "What am I doing?" he mumbles.

"You, sir, are drunk and taking advantage of an innocent and vulnerable young lady." I scold playfully.

"So I am. Call me a cad. I deserve it. I promise, it will never happen again."

I rise, reassemble my nightgown and stand before him. I touch his unshaven cheek sympathetically. "Pity." I whisper sadly in his ear. I silently steal back to Jane's room.


	2. 2

2.  
The next morning Jane's fever had broke and her appetite returned. When I awake, the maid is helping her into her dress and doing her hair for breakfast. I rush through my toilette feeling like throwing up the entire time. I look pale but my body is still buzzing from my escapade with Mr. Darcy. Excitement and remorse are coursing through my veins. He likes me. More than a little bit. I wonder what that means. Will he make me an offer? Thinking about him, his face, his body, his lips, it makes me want never to be without him. When I look respectable, we head downstairs.  
Mr. Darcy was conspicuously missing from the breakfast room. The Netherfield party coos and congratulates Jane on her health and we all sit down to a large breakfast of scones, fruit, eggs, bacon and potatoes. I nibble on a slice of bread and drink copious amounts of tea.  
"Where is Mr. Darcy this fine day?" Caroline giggles and pours Jane another cup of tea.  
Bingley, beaming at Jane, can barely remember who Darcy is. "Oh, yes. Darcy. I do not know. He has been stewing about something ever since we got here. Maybe he is just nervous about his upcoming nuptials."  
"Upcoming nuptials! Charles, what _can_ you mean? Is Darcy betrothed and no one knows it? You are just being ridiculous." Caroline was so used to being teased by her brother she barely believed a word he said.  
"No. On my honor, Caroline, I speak the truth. Darcy has been betrothed to his cousin Anne de Bourg since they were babies. She comes of age this year and all of the family is expecting their wedding. Darcy could never disappoint his family. It is not like this is coming as a surprise to him."  
"It's coming as a surprise to me!" Miss Bingley is disappointed. And me.  
"All of society has known of this arrangement…but then again…you don't read the papers."  
I make a mental note...Note to self: read the papers.  
"Speaking of papers, Mr. Bingley, do you happen to have one on hand now?" I asked him quietly.  
"Why yes I do, Miss Elizabeth, the Times are in my study. I give you explicit permission to go there now. It is on my desk. See Caroline, Miss Elizabeth will take my advice."  
Mr. Bingley's study is magnificent. Row after row of mahogany bookshelves line the walls, a fire blazes and Mr. Bingley's old gray cat is curled atop a large desk overloaded with messy stacks of paper. I pick up the purring fur ball and continue to search for the illusive London Times.  
"Sweet Panger, I fear this is like trying to find a needle in a haystack."  
"I doubt you will find any sewing needles in here, Miss Elizabeth." I knew that powerful bass voice. It had been whispering sweet nothings to me not 5 hours earlier. Mr. Darcy sat in a quiet corner at a small writing table. He stands with his arms crossed accusingly, "Pray tell, do you have permission to be snooping around Mr. Bingley's paper mountain?"  
"Yes. He told me I could read the Times and he gave me EXPLICIT permission to find it in here." I faced down my opponent with spirited defiance.  
He spies the newspaper on his desk and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat. "You can search over there if you wish but I might have moved it."  
I walk slowly over to where he stands. His legs are parted and his hands are on his hips, waiting for me. His breeches were tighter than I remember them being. I boldly stalk him, walking back and forth in front of him surveying every inch, every ripple of his well hung body. He's getting excited. I stop in front of him. His chest is hard and I can feel his muscles flinch as my hand slides behind his lapel to take the news from his pocket. He takes my hand away from his body and caresses it softly. He puts it up to his lips pulling me so close our bodies touch. My heart races. He rubs my hand against his freshly shaved cheek and presses a kiss onto my palm and then to my fingers. I am getting weak.  
He should not be doing this to me. He is betrothed. But…he is not married yet. Still, should not he behave in a more gentleman like manner? With my other hand I snatch the paper from inside his coat. I can feel the heat of his body as I claim it. A letter unexpectedly falls out onto the floor. It is addressed to M. LeTourneau in France. He can see my surprise as our eyes lock.  
"There is not a moment to waste, Elizabeth. If you are serious about wanting to secure a good position, you must begin your studies immediately." He speaks with conviction as he reaches down to pick it up where it fell by my foot, his eyes lingering on every inch of me from my feet to my face. It is as if he is memorizing me for some lonely night when, after he was long married, he would pull this memory from his mind and play with it.  
His demeanor changes, and is no longer the strong Darcy. His breath quickens and his expression seems pained. "I am leaving for London this afternoon and I did not want to forget to post this."  
"You are leaving so soon?" My heart feels heavy and my stomach squeezed.  
He smiles sadly, "I have been here a fortnight, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. That is quite long enough to traipse on Mr. Bingley's hospitality. Besides, there is a certain young lady who will be occupying his attention in the near future. "  
Did he mean Jane? I hope he meant Jane!  
"I so enjoyed our time together." I said bravely. "I imagine there will be very little opportunity for us to meet in the future."  
"In that case, I will need a kiss by which to remember you. May I?"  
"You may."  
Our lips linger as we inhale each other's essence. His hand touches my neck and chin while his other hand pulls me into his body. I feel his excitement. His tongue slowly enters my mouth and pulls from me my soul. It is his now. I will never get it back.


End file.
